


Framed in a Sky of Gold

by InsertSthMeaningful



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful/pseuds/InsertSthMeaningful
Summary: It's summer in the year 1997. The Fifth Element is in cinemas, a new fair has moved into town close to where Maria and Monica live, and Carol is once again stopping by on one of her jaunts through space. A hearty welcome, a little personal victory and lots of handholding ensue.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71
Collections: Marvel Fans 4 BLM 2020





	Framed in a Sky of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewaythatwerust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaythatwerust/gifts).



> Title from Joshua Henry Jones Jr.'s poem [I Saw You](https://poets.org/poem/i-saw-you).  
> All the thanks to Issa for participating in the Marvel Fans for BLM Auction and donating for this piece of writing 💙 and to [LavenderLotion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion) for the marvellous beta!

Maria is bent over the kitchen sink peeling potatoes for a mash when Monica jumps up from her math homework on the kitchen table in favor of flattening her nose against the windowpane. There’s the excited tapping of her adolescent fingers against the glass, and the huffing and puffing of her breaths as she squeals, “Mum, look, it’s a shooting star!”

Suddenly, Maria’s heart is hammering high and fast in her throat, a delicious kind of excitement crawling up her spine, followed closely by the fear of disappointment. She lets the peeler slide from her weakening grasp, and it falls between the starchy potato skins. Then, she turns, and her gaze wanders out the window.

It’s the height of summer, and the sun sets late. In the clear sky, a drop of light is shimmering, gradually lowering to the ground behind a copse of trees a mile or so off from their little settlement.

“Sweetie, that is definitely _not_ a shooting star,” she voices her thoughts before she can stop herself. “That looks like…”

Monica’s eyes are wide and painfully hopeful as they meet hers. “Do you think it’s Auntie Carol?” she asks, her pen scribbling mad patterns on the margin of her exercise book.

Maria has to clap a starch-soiled hand to her mouth to keep from sighing in ecstasy. _Please, please, let it be Carol._ “Maybe it’s the aliens. You never know,” she presses out between two hurried intakes of breath, the playful note in her voice painfully forced. _Please._

Monica shoots her a look that tells her she’s fooling absolutely no one.

“Alright then.” Switching to an easy grin, her hands grapple for a towel with which to wipe them off. “Only one way to find out then, no?”

Monica’s homework slides to the floor in a torrent of papers and gel pens as she’s up faster than a bolt, but right now, Maria couldn’t care less. Her girl is always so orderly and well-behaved and now that her very personal heroine might be coming to visit, what are a few crumpled pages of a schoolbook, anyway?

Also, Maria can’t wait to get her hands on Carol either. For now, she has to contend with the car key as they hurry out the door and pile into their rickety, dust-coated land rover, but the hum of the engine has her blood pumping hotter already. _Higher, further, faster, baby_ , she chants in her mind as she pulls out onto the road and speeds down the asphalt to the copse of trees, her very own personal mantra. In the backseat, Monica is vibrating giddily in place, her smile wide and toothy in the rearview mirror as she grips onto Maria’s headrest and babbles out her excitement.

Honestly, Maria is _this_ close to joining in.

“-and we _have_ to take her over to the Rosenbaums and show her their new kitten, and then we’re going to watch _all_ the new movies and listen to _all_ the new albums, and she’ll want to have ‘smores in the garden when we light a fire this weekend-”

And Maria throws her head back and laughs, laughs out her joy and her bubbling excitement and the tiny little fear that’s whispering _m_ _aybe it’s not her after all, maybe it’s just another false alarm, another trap sprung and empty._ “Monica sweetie,” she says, “you’re right. You’re so, so right.”

The tires crunch on the dried soil when they pull into the farm track leading up to the stand of trees. The light has vanished, and the fields lay barren and empty.

Maria heaves a dry swallow as she gets out of the car, Monica hot on her heels.

A tumbleweed blows by. It's silent, not another human soul in sight. Not a trace of Carol.

False alarm.

Then, a clump of dried grass is kicked into their path and a figure shrouded in the evening glow steps out from behind a brittle oak tree. Maria’s breath is punched out of her, like every time she beholds this oh-so yearned-for sight.

Carol smiles, all crinkling eyes and casual hands-on-hips. “Hello, you two. Miss me?”

Maria stays rooted to the ground as Monica giggles and throws herself into Carol’s arms, the “So much, always” lodged in her throat. There’s moisture in her eyes, and the press of a thousand things left untold on her heart, and all she can do is smile and lean down for a kiss when Carol struts over to her, Monica hitched safely onto her hip even though she’s grown two inches since last time.

“Oof, Captain Trouble, you’ve been eating well,” Carol is moaning, and the taste of her lips – ozone and ether and a dapple of sunlight – lingers on Maria’s. Monica is giggling, and then she squeals as Maria grabs Carol’s hips and crushes her girls into a hug, holding in her arms her two most important people on the planet.

“You’re gonna eat well, too,” she brings out between the lump in her throat. “I’ve just started making dinner. Potato mash and peas with sauce and those animal-shaped nuggets that are Monica’s favorites.”

Carol melts even further into the embrace, her breath hot and searing on Maria’s collarbone. “Oh my God, I’m starving. How could I possibly thank you?”

“By helping Monica set the table,” Maria answers deadpan, and Monica and Carol push a moan in unison.

“Not fair,” Carol complains.

Monica, squirming in the hold of her arms, supports her with a, “But Mamaaa.”

“Hey, you asked,” Maria chides, no real venom in her voice as she starts herding her girls to the car. “You’re away for six months, and then you expect to get served like a pasha? Not in this part of town, girl.”

There’s a bit more whining, some joking and trying to wiggle out of responsibilities, but they all know it’s just their old routine they’ve settled into ever since Carol became an avenging space warrior. Back in the car, she’s promptly put into the picture by an enthusiastic Monica – that math test she did so well on, how it still makes Maria proud every time she mentions it, the new space opera in cinemas she’ll go watch with her squad this evening, what happened in sports, politics, the world.

Maria grins, eyes only half on the road. At the end of the day, it’ll be like Carol was never gone – hell, even now it already feels like she’s only been away a few days, a little jaunt around the galaxy and back.

And when Maria fits her palm over Carol’s hand on her thigh, their fingers tangle together seamlessly, and it’s like Carol never left.

A new fair has mushroomed just a few streets down from where the cinema stands, and after Maria and Carol drop Monica off and watch her and her gaggle of friends disappear into the velvet-cushioned bowels of the building, they stroll on down towards the blinking lights.

The shouting of children reaches them first, squished between the honking of cars and the chatter of people. Then, the smells hit – sweet, sweet burnt almonds which remind Maria of before, when they were younger and she would sometimes bury her head at Carol’s shoulder and just scent her, inhale her lover’s symphony of citrus soap and deodorant and a long day of hard, nerve-wracking and utterly wonderful work. There’s motor oil, too, and the body warmth of the people crowding the fair, barbecue on that corner and deep-fry on the other. Between the press of the bodies, Carol’s hand holds on tight to Maria’s – right where it belongs.

Their first stop is the milkshake parlor.

“Remember when I was pregnant and got a craving for strawberry milkshake, and you had to drive all the way across town to get me some?” Maria whispers into Carol’s ear as they queue up. A few strands of Carol’s golden hair catch on her lips as she presses them a bit too close to her skin to be decent for public, and an elderly man gives them the stink eye. She couldn’t care less. It’s been months since she could last do this, _months_.

Carol throws her head back and laughs. “God, I do. You were insufferable back then!”

Maria smirks. “I still am.”

“Sure.” Even though the sun’s still up and the heat of the day is still making their palms sweaty, Carol’s grip tightens around Maria’s hand. There’s that glimmer in her baby blues, the one she always gets when being planet-side starts making its effects. “And I miss every minute I can’t be here to experience it first-hand.”

Maria would like to call her a sap, to laugh it off. Except - she can’t. She wishes for the very same.

A lull sets in. Not an awkward one, mind you, there’s no room for awkwardness between them when they have to make the best of the time they got. They order their milkshakes – chocolate for Carol, caramel for Maria, they won’t stick to it and end up mixing, anyway – and Carol makes puppy dog eyes at Maria when they pass a cotton candy stand.

“Please?” she asks, all sweetness and honey. “I swear I’ll remember to bring change next time, I’ve just been in systems where they don’t do transactions with weird little metal blanks.”

And Maria sighs and gives in. After some haggling, they walk away with a medium cotton candy – blueberry, pure sticky sugar, and far too expensive.

But it's worth it, for the smile on Carol’s face and the little giggle she pushes and the feel of her sunlight-fingers against Maria’s lips as she feeds her wisp after wisp of the purple sweetness - a happiness that can't be bought with money. They stroll between the stands, swaying almost with each other’s presence, drunk on the sudden closeness after so many lightyears apart. With Carol’s hand low on her back, Maria feels her body light up, heat wave after heat wave travelling up and down her spine, and the disapproving looks of passers-by mean nothing to her. They diminish to inexistence in the overpowering shine of Carol’s presence beside her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, and it’s true. It’s the feeling of the rosy evening sky slowly darkening overhead and the woman who matters to you most in your arms as you lay in the summer grass and hold her, just hold her and wish this moment would never end.

Carol’s voice is a promise, a plea, an act of intimacy. “I love you, too.” And then, she pulls Maria over to a stall where a group of men lingers, shooting cans and passing women looks to undress.

“Hello there.” A tall, blond guy with nasty baggy jeans and an even nastier sneer tramps into their way, blocking Carol’s path. “Lookin’ for some fun, ladies?”

“Sure are.” Now, if you’re unbiased, Carol’s accompanying smile is easy, light. Maria doesn’t even have to give it a glance to know it’s forced, and she inconspicuously lets her hand slip from Carol’s grasp. “We just wanna shoot some cans.”

The man gives Carol a long look over – too long for Maria’s taste, but what can she do. “You sure you’re up to it? You look like you could use some help,” he says. 

Oh, oh. Oh no. Maria’s milkshake goes down the wrong pipe, and she chokes and only just so avoids flying into a coughing fit. Wrong thing to say. The absolute worst he could have chosen.

Carol’s arms cross, locked in front of her like vices. “Oh, yeah?” There’s that look in her eyes, the cold, righteous anger she always gets when she feels faulted unjustly. Most of the time, she’s right – and she never fails to do something about it.

Maria musters up a half-hearted, “No, c’mon. Leave it.”

She knows she doesn’t stand a chance though.

Carol is already scanning the rack of prices behind the counter. Her eyes snatch on a bulky stuffed bear – it’s an ugly shade of burgundy.

“You see that one? I’m gonna win it,” she announces with a jut of her chin that makes Maria mourn for her small change. But if there’s one thing in the world she trusts in, it’s Carol’s stubbornness.

The man laughs, and his friends behind him smirk. Carol doesn’t. Slapping enough coins for a few shots into the game owner’s waiting palm, she gets a good grip on the dummy rifle and aims.

Then, she fires. And hits home.

A few cans clatter to the ground, and Maria watches her girl move on swiftly to the next stack. Those aren’t Carol’s powers, whatever the hell they are made of. This is her army pilot training, her years of sweat and tears and frustrations bearing fruit.

By her side, Maria hears the man swallow dryly. Carol moves on, from stack to stack, missing only one time.

Five minutes later, the stall owner – his face sour, his evening clearly spoiled – shoves the teddy bear over the counter into her waiting arms. Maria watches as Carol, glowing in her triumph, shoots him a saccharine grin and a “Good evening” before she takes her by the elbow and steers her away. The men don’t follow them, just stand there with void expressions on their faces.

“That,” Carol declares when they’re out of earshot, voice muffled by the plushy in her arms, “was awesome.”

“Sure it was. You showed them, sweetie.” Maria wants to stay serious, but there’s nothing that can stop Carol’s happiness from coaxing a smile out of her, too. Not a damn thing. She chucks her empty milkshake cup into a trash can, then points at the giant teddy bear – Carol’s almost disappearing under its large fluffiness, and hell, if that isn’t the cutest thing ever. “You need help with that, short stack?”

“I’m a woman who can fire photon blasts from my hands.”

Maria cocks an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer my question. And this teddy does look heavy.”

The look Carol sends her could melt diamonds.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she says, hoisting her load into Maria’s waiting arms.

And if her hand just so happens to brush Maria’s waist a bit too low, then well, that’s but a coincidence.

Somehow, they manage to make their way around the fair without striking someone to death with their burgundy-red trophy. The sky is at last darkening over, and though shrouded in smog and light pollution, the first stars are blinking awake.

Maria cuts a straight line to the Ferris wheel towering high over the rest of the stalls and stands, having noticed the way Carol’s eyes stray to the hectic lights on the spokes as moths to light. Her small change is running out, but there’s still enough for two tickets – three, if they have to pay another place for the burgundy abomination disguised as a teddy bear.

They don’t. Instead, the monstrosity ends up squeezed awkwardly beside them, leaving them barely one third of the seat as they’re lifted in the air, the night sky growing ever closer and the fuss of the fair fainter. As soon as they’re out of sight, Carol pushes a quiet sigh and cuddles into Maria’s side.

Overwhelmed with the warmth, the smell of the woman beside her, Maria’s heart skips a beat. Her arm trembles softly when she loops it around Carol’s shoulder, pulls her even closer and busses a kiss against the crown of her head.

“I really, _really_ missed you,” she whispers, voice thick with love.

Carol’s contented hum reverberates deep in her chest. “Missed you, too. I missed my normal life.”

Maria grins. “Your normal life? Nothing was ever normal about us, sweetie.”

“Well, more normal than me being abducted by aliens and brainwashed and trained to fight other aliens.” There’s a giggle in Carol’s voice as her hair tickles Maria’s chin. “With you, I don’t have to do any of that. I can just stop being that _thing_ , and be me.”

“You’ll always be you to me,” whispers Maria, and this time there are real tears in her eyes. Carol’s hand comes to wrap around hers and squeezes tightly.

They’re almost at the top now, with the fair hustling and bustling below them. The ground is far, far away – a fatal fall if their seat was to give, but Maria knows Carol would be there for her. Even though Carol is away for months at end, fighting strange wars Maria can only hope to understand, Maria knows she’ll always be back.

“So, how’s space?” she asks when they’ve rested the highest point, well on their descent now as the stars start to vanish back into the half-light of the city.

“Cold. Dark. Beautiful.” Carol leans away to meet her eyes. “Very lonely sometimes, but I manage. I just think of you and Monica - and how I never get out of setting the table when I come home.”

“Oh, you _love_ to complain about that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s not _fair._ I’m a weary traveler who’s just flown lightyears to get back to you and-”

“Oh, shut up, you,” Maria breathes, and before Carol can come back at her with a sassy “Then make me,” she’s already cupped her darling’s face and pulled her in for a long, hard kiss. Carol’s lips are warm on Maria’s, and the surprised moan that escapes her is sweeter than anything she’s ever tasted.

It’s rare that Maria wishes she could stop time – she’s not enough of an escapist. This is one of those moments, though; one of those moments she’d like to hold onto forever, to tuck away in her heart like a well-worn photograph and return to whenever she wants: Carol in her arms, sighing softly against her lips, and the stars and the lights all around them, until the Ferris wheel has completed its rotation and brings them back down to earth.

They’re just in time to pick Monica and her friends up when they come spilling out of the cinema, chattering excitedly about everything and nothing. Some of them live on the way out of town, and Maria drops them off one after the other, until the car is empty of excited exclamations about starships, shape-shifting aliens and whatever a MultiPass is. Monica is dozing in the backseat, perking up every now and then to say, “But I know that’s not what aliens look like – they’re nice and friendly, and they have green faces!”

“Sure they do, Captain Trouble. Sure they do,” Carol answers every time, shooting Maria a knowing grin. “And sometimes they’re blue, and sometimes they look just like us. One day, when you’re all grown up, you’ll meet them and tell them just how nice you think they are.”

Maria grins right back. In the rearview mirror, she can see her daughter’s eyes drooping, her little teenage head slowly stopping its relentless work and lolling sideways against the window. On her thigh, Carol’s hand grips the fabric of her jeans, grasp slackening with exhaustion.

Maria can’t help the happy sigh when she covers Carol’s fingers with hers and watches her girl’s eyelids flutter in her doze. This moment might be a fluke, a blink of an eye compared to all the years she’ll have to get by without her best friend and the woman she loves. There’s already a phantom pain in her heart, anticipating the hour Carol will disappear off the face of the Earth once more, gnawing away at her like anxiety – but it’s worth it.

It’s worth it, and so much more, because Maria knows that despite every mission, every hardship, Carol will never fail to fly back to her. She’s proven it once, and she’ll prove it for all the years to come. Maria _knows_.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are dearly appreciated <3


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